


The Music Maker

by Rigel99



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:43:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9368501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: A serial killer is targeting professional musicians. Their MO is unlike anything Hotchner's team have come across before.





	1. Allegro

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mélomanie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660544) by [dhampir72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhampir72/pseuds/dhampir72). 



_“Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.”_ \- Victor Hugo

“How twisted must your vision of the world be that you can’t even find solace or something beautiful in music?” Hotchner asked of no-one in particular while scanning the file in his lap.

“Not just music. Stringed music specifically,” replied Rossi who was pouring himself a glass of water in the kitchenette at the end of the main cabin.

Hotch allowed himself a rare sigh. He opened his eyes a moment later to the sight of Reid watching him quietly from across the cabin aisle.

Spencer pursed his lips and silently dropped his gaze back to his own copy of the file. “It’s certainly a first for the BAU,” he said thoughtfully, looking at Rossi in an effort to avoid Hotchner’s probing gaze.

“That’s an understatement, kid,” said Morgan, pitching into the conversation. “Their instrument left in the city where they last played, no body but the instrument itself restrung with human intestines?” Morgan grimaced. “I’ve seen some messed up shit in my time on this job, but this…”

Prentiss shook them out of their self-imposed darkness. “What have the local investigators put together so far?”

“It appears to be an annual cycle. Two years ago, the lead and second violins of the Chicago Philharmonic was found on a park bench off Randolph Street,” stated Hotch. “A year after that a viola player by the name of Caitlin Morrissey disappeared after a performance in the Boston Concert Hall.”

“What’s the significance of the location?” asked Morgan.

“Symbolic in some way. The surname of the violinists was Randolph. They were fraternal twins, brother and sister. Similarly, Caitlin’s instrument was found in its case outside a bar in Morrissey Street.”

“And a pattern has emerged with this recent killing?” Prentiss asked.

“Correct,” said Rossi. “Two nights ago, another violist, again from the Boston Philharmonic, didn’t make it to the after party. He hasn’t been seen since.”

“He…” said Prentiss thoughtfully. “So the targets are not restricted to the UnSub’s attention by gender.”

“No,” continued Hotch. “Music is the only tangible common denominator we have identified here so far.”

“How long between the disappearance of the victim and the discovery of their instrument?” enquired Morgan.

“Five days,” said Reid.

“So what’s he doing to them between capture and kill?” said Prentiss.

“That’s what we have three days to figure out and hopefully save the latest target,” said Hotchner. “Garcia?”

Their analyst’s cheery countenance popped up on the monitor. “Good morning, my Mighty Conquerors of Evil.” A photo replaced Garcia’s face. “The latest Virtuoso to disappear is one Benedict Cross.” 

“Huh. Looks kinda like you, pretty boy,” said Morgan. Reid looked up and squinted at the screen. “Aside from the cheekbones and the eye colour…” he trailed off, _feeling_ rather than seeing Hotchner’s raised eyebrow. Now probably wasn’t the time to launch into a diatribe about facial recognition programmes and their nuances. Later. Maybe.

“Send everything you’ve got that might tie the victims, Garcia, besides their professions.”

“You got it, boss. With you within the hour,” said Garcia, signing off.

“OK, everyone. Read, review, gather your thoughts. We land in 45 minutes.”

Reid leaned back and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he was smiling softly to himself, Hotchner observed the young genius from his peripheral vision, undetected by the rest of his colleagues, and wondered.


	2. Adagio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A touch of Hannibal-esque gore in here.

It was like a scene from American Horror Story. Except this episode wasn’t fiction.

The light in the room was soft, like the concerto that flowed from the speaker in the corner next to the body. The victim hung by tightly bound wrists from the wall bracket, his face trained with an unnerving expression of serenity that made Reid shudder, though he did not betray that feeling to his colleagues. Four holes had been drilled into the forehead and the “instrument’s strings” hung loosely down the front, hanging around the ankles. The victim’s torso had been hollowed out and the intestines removed. The UnSub had not had time to finish his masterpiece. As with the previous victim, the strings had been made out of the intestines of the prior casualty of the Music Maker, who on this occasion had been Caitlin Morrissey.

Gruesome didn’t even come close to an adequate description.

“Gives new meaning to the concept of an instrument of death doesn’t it?” said Morgan behind him, resigned in the fact that yet again, their UnSub had eluded them.

Though of course his eagle-eyed superior would notice something was off with a member of his team, even more so when standing in the wake of a carnage left behind by mind spiralling down the circles of hell.

“Reid?”

Spencer glanced away from the body to Hotchner and then back. “I thought we were one step ahead on this one to be honest,” Reid said with a frown.

“Me too. We’ll get him.”

“But when, Hotch? If he’s smart and we know he is, he’ll go to ground. He’ll accept this as a setback to his design and likely won’t resurface until next year.” Spencer rolled his shoulders back, frowning thoughtfully and took a breath. Hotch waited. There was always more with Reid, to him, from him.

“Either that or he’ll adjust his MO and we’ll be none the wiser because the pattern will be lost.”

Hotchner crossed his arms while the forensics team milled around them. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

Spencer stared into the middle distance for a few seconds, Hotchner knowing that look meant he was plundering his mind’s archives for a logical answer to the gut feeling creeping around in his belly. The process always fascinated him, but then, that was Reid top to bottom. Fascinating.

Reid’s expression cleared then. “The music…”

Of course, they had all been aware that the UnSub listened to a classical piece while he worked but it was only on the third victim that a reliable pattern was emerging and the most reliable member of the team to pick up on that had just done so.

“Explain?” said Hotchner.

“We were thinking it was simply background music to work by. But the one thing in common each piece share is improv. At some point in the work the virtuoso is required to improvise.”

Hotchner glanced over his shoulder at Morgan who caught it with a wry smile to share the usual look of subdued “damn he’s impressive” between them.

Reid looked at the victim again. “The UnSub is also suggesting, probably subconsciously, that his next target will be a cellist.”

Spencer took a quick step back as though he had been burned and collided with Hotchner. “Sorry,” he mumbled distractedly. He turned, flustered, only to be steadied by strong hands gently gripping his upper arms. “I don’t know what this team would do without you, Reid,” he said sombrely.

It was a creeping blush but it didn’t escape Hotchner. He dropped his hands quickly. They turned away from each other allowing themselves the distraction of the body been removed from the wall and laid out in the body bag.

“He won’t get away with it again,” said Hotch, with that quiet determination that always made Spencer believe, despite his absolute devotion to empirical evidence, that miracles were possible.


	3. Scherzo

**One Year Later**

“I didn’t even know.”

“Hotch?” JJ looked at her Unit Chief with the motherly concern that had gradually evolved in her own role with Henry.

“That he played.”

Reid’s cello was sitting on its side in the middle of a road called Spencer Avenue. It was haunting and dreadful and everything Hotch had ever hoped never to experience again after Prentiss. Except this time, it was very real. The abduction of Spencer from his apartment had been swift and well planned. The FBI had been keeping their eyes on the wrong potential victims - professional musicians. The UnSub had intentionally evolved his MO by moving his focus to amateurs. God only knows how long he’d been stalking his Doctor…

Hotch’s gut twisted with the force of need and determination to find him. He’d go to hell and back on his own if he had to. The thought of a world devoid of Spencer, especially after what he had gone through losing Hayley was unbearable.

“He was—“ Hotch flinched. “—is,” she continued, “a very private person.”

“We all are,” said Hotch. “Where does it get us? In the end. To know so little of each other?”

“It’s a way of protecting ourselves, isn’t it?” JJ replied. “We’re all guilty of it to some extent.”

Hotch’s grimace deepened. “Yes we are. Aren’t we.” And where the hell does it get us?

* * *

It was like something out of a horror movie. Hotch didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch, his mind transported to his trigger finger and the words he was trained to shout in warning - “FBI!” - barely left his lips before he unleashed holy hell on the UnSub, even as he raised his hands and stepped away from the strapped down form on the gurney, all Hotch saw was a world painted storm red by Foyet, Doyle and every other bastard that had ever victimised his family.

Three in the chest and one in the head. It felt more satisfying than it should have but Hotch would analyse that later.

Reid was half conscious and semi-lucid. He’d obviously been drugged to keep him quiet.

The cut scored across his belly, exposing his guts was clean and precise. There was very little blood. Keeping his voice level, Hotch called for medical assistance, holding Reid’s hand while he did. He remained beside him, while the medics did what they could there to stabilise his condition.

“Will he—?” Hotch began, never taking his eyes of his young colleague as he slipped into consciousness.

“Hard to say right now, Agent, but his odds are good. You got to him before any internal damage was done to his body.”

JJ and Morgan watched as he climbed into the back of the ambulance, climbing into the SUV to follow to the hospital. Neither spoke, and even if they did, they were sure Hotch wouldn’t have heard them.

* * *

**Four Weeks Later**

“Ohmygodohmygod!” Garcia practically squealed in delight while she flung herself into Reid’s arms.

“Um. Ow?” he smiled through a grimace, delighted by her reaction but still tender from the stitches.

“Man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” Morgan said, beaming. “And still a pretty boy!”

“Thanks, Derek. You make me feel as though I’ve not even been away.”

JJ and Emily instantly went into mothering mode. “Alright, alright, you guys! Stop fussing! I’m fine. Fine!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” came the welcome sound of his Unit Chief's voice from the platform above the bullpen. “Save me, Hotch?” Reid pleaded.

Hotch gestured his head in the direction of the office with a slanted smile.

“Drinks later?” said Garcia eagerly to Reid as he pulled away from his overjoyed and relieved team.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he nodded. “Just want to get this assessment over with.”

He met Rossi’s gaze, the man standing outside his office watching the group. A smile, a nod and a “great to have you back, kid,” in typical Rossi fashion was returned in kind. He shut Hotch’s office door behind him, took a deep breath and took a seat.

* * *

**One Week Later**

“Child cases never fall to chip away another piece of my soul,” Rossi said, looking back from the porthole towards Hotch who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Hotchner brought himself back to the moment and relayed his silent agreement to that testament. His middle distance stare had happened to take in the slumbering form of Spencer Reid on the far side of the cabin. But Rossi didn’t need to know that. Suddenly, Dave stood up and turned to face the team scattered in various stages of exhaustion throughout the plane’s cabin.

He clapped his hands together once to get their attention. “OK, team. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling my mortality these days so I think it’s about time I treated you all to a family dinner round mine. Tomorrow night.”

Spencer was rousing from his sleep, tousled hair and rumpled cardigan so Rossi pounced. “And bring your cello, Reid. You’ve held out on us for long enough.”

A semi-muffled mid yawn, “Huh?” was as good as a yes in Dave’s book. “Excellent.”

Everyone was smiling at him. Reid still looked a little off balance but nodded dumbly.

“See you all at 7pm for pre-dinner drinks, performance to follow,” Rossi finished, taking his seat opposite Hotchner and throwing him a cheeky wink.

Hotch guessed that Rossi always knew more than he ever let on.


	4. Sonata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the opening movement of this piece while you read. :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DwHpDOWhkGk

The team were transfixed. Garcia was welling up. Derek was in awe… Rossi? Well, Rossi was never surprised at the hidden talents that were slowly revealed to him the more time he spent in the company of these people.

Hotchner was finding it difficult not to simply walk out of the room. The sight of Reid, completely lost in the sounds drifting from the body of the cello, was almost too breathtaking. Fortunately, his colleagues were too focussed on the young genius, hypnotised by Bach’s Cello Suite, masterfully drawn from the instrument.

Reid’s fingers danced lightly but firmly along the neck. Hotch was spellbound. His skin was tingling, goosebumps rising like waves along his arms, across his shoulders and down his back.

Of course, everyone except Rossi was completely swept up in the moment. Aaron didn’t even sense the movement until Dave was right beside him, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. He was looking directly at Hotchner who had turned his head with a questioning expression. Dave simply raised an eyebrow in response.

The slightly dilated pupils betrayed the man and Rossi didn’t need any more evidence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered.

“Stunning in fact,” Hotchner deadpanned back, both men drawing their attentions back to the solitary cellist, still filling Rossi’s living room with haunting beauty.

“Such hidden… depths…” Rossi continued.

Hotchner resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

“Seems such a waste not to have someone special to share it with…” he finished just as the piece came to an end. Hotchner watched as Reid threw his head back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open drawing out the final note.

The silence in the room was deafening.

Reid was breathing heavily. He caught the stares, his gaze coming to rest on Hotchner. He brought his lips together and bit the lower one. The heat of his blush intensifying. “That bad huh?”

Rossi was the first to break the spell. “Goddam it, kid. You’ve managed to render Garcia speechless. Hell hath frozen over!” he grinned, leading a round of applause.

Reid grinned like a boy who’d just been given his favourite Christmas gift while Hotch slipped quietly out the patio doors into the garden to try and regain his floundering composure and just _breathe_ for a minute.

Only Rossi saw him go.

* * *

Twenty minutes in the cool air had done him some good. By the time he returned, after doing a circuit of the garden and arriving at the front door, JJ, Morgan, Prentiss and Garcia were heading out. They shared a brief goodbye while Hotchner went inside to grab his coat from the closet. He caught sight of Reid still in the living room, packing away his instrument.

Bent over the case with his ass stuck in the air reminded Hotchner why he’d needed some fresh air in the first place.

“Admiring the view?”

Hotchner finally gave in. “Am I that obvious?”

Rossi chuckled. “You’re talking to a guy who’s had three wives and his fair share of dalliances. The signs are pretty obvious to this old dog…”

They turned on hearing Reid approach. He was pulling out his phone. “I’ll just call a cab, Rossi…” Reid started.

“Nonsense!” said their host with a sly grin. “Hotchner would be only too happy to give you a ride after such a stellar performance, won’t you Aaron?”

Hotch gave him a level look that told him he might be sitting on the wing of the plane on their next trip out. “Sure,” he replied with a small smile.

“Great. And don’t forget, we’ve got the late shift tomorrow so maybe you should both, you know, have a lie in…” Rossi clapped him on the back, steering him towards the door as he shirked into his coat.

 _I’m going to kill him myself,_ thought Aaron silently, while Spencer eagerly bounced out the door towards his car.

* * *

“Thanks, Hotch,” Reid said, out of the blue. The drive was about 30 minutes to Reid’s apartment and he had been silent for the most of it.

“For?” Aaron asked, glancing to the side briefly to catch Reid looking at him with open earnestness. Spencer shifted his body slightly so he was facing him a little more.

“I remember the night clear as day, you know. It might have seemed I was out of it but I guess it’s one of the unfortunate side effects of having a brain like mine.”

Hotch stayed silent, though Reid noticed his grip tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. “You stayed with me right up until they hauled me into the operating theatre. You didn’t hesitate in taking down the Music Maker. You— you held my hand, and I—“ Spencer paused, unsure of himself. How far he could go down this road, without making a fool of himself, or worse still, losing the respect of his superior.

“Go on,” breathed Hotchner.

Spencer had closed his eyes, hadn’t even noticed that Hotchner had pulled the car to halt along the kerb.

“I’ve never felt so safe, so valued and I knew, just knew in that moment before I passed out and you were looking down at me, that I wouldn’t die, that I couldn’t die without— without telling you…” he hesitated and took a deep breath through his nostrils and an open mouthed exhale. He vaguely heard the seatbelt being released a split second before strong fingers landed against the back of his neck and pulled him into a heart-stopping kiss.

Spencer Reid was a scientist but even he could be convinced that there was something magical about time standing still in the 10 seconds ( _was it really only ten seconds?_ ) the man you have wanted for years kisses you with a level of conviction that Reid had only ever seen him apply to taking down an UnSub.

Hotchner drew back, as though suddenly embarrassed by his lack of control, something he proudly never let slip. Well. Until now…

“Sorry,” he said, voice rough with desire, eyes trained straight ahead, hands back on the steering wheel.

It took Spencer about 5 seconds to knock his brain into gear and off the growing interest fighting to get out of his pants. “Jack is with his aunt tonight right?” he asked through laboured breaths. Hotch turned his head, and there was no mistaking _that_ look. Spencer had often been on the receiving end of it, though shied away from interest.

Until now.

“He is,” replied Hotchner, voice dangerously low, speaking volumes about what was going through his mind.

“Take me home. Please.”

Hotchner didn’t need to be told twice.


	5. Coda

“Oh God. Oh God…” mumbled Spencer. “I think I’m hyperventilating."

Hotchner backed off from attacking the young genius’ neck and throat and closed his eyes. His hands were resting against the wall on either side of Spencer’s head. Spencer’s eyes were closed while he focussed on mirroring Aaron’s breathing. When he opened them again, he found Aaron gazing at him with such yearning, he thought he’d melt into the floor.

“Did I tell you to stop?” he said cheekily, once he thought he could get the words out without sounding like an inexperienced pubescent. Hotchner wasn’t to be outdone. He pushed himself off the wall and slipped off his jacket. His hands made short work of his tie and the buttons of his shirt were smoothly but quickly undone.

And speaking off undone… “Too much?” Aaron asked with a smile containing enough sex appeal to make a priest rethink his vows. Spencer’s response was to slid unhesitant hands under the shirt and work it off his shoulders while returning his kiss with blinding enthusiasm. He pushed him back towards the bedroom while they undid each other’s trousers.

“I think Rossi was right,” said Aaron smiling against Spencer’s breathless gasps. Reading his mind, he replied, “we really are going to need that lie-in,” finishing his sentence before pushing him to the bed and showing him that there was more than one way to make beautiful music…

* * *

Aaron was woken gently to the sound of the cello’s soft vibrations floating through Spencer’s apartment. It was possible the most soothing way he had ever been woken since his time studying his law degree. There was always a test to cram for, then a case to prosecute, then innocent lives to save. Even on the rare quieter mornings when a reprieve was given, Haley would be demanding his attention or Jack would pounce on him in the early mornings.

He hadn’t slept so well in… well… _years._

He frowned at that thought. He certainly didn’t want to be forming any significant attachments to his younger colleague. Life was complicated enough. The music continued to play and Aaron considered from the pace and flow of the bow across the strings that Spencer was completely lost in the piece. He grabbed his boxers and wandered towards the sound.

All he could do was stare.

Spencer was sitting on a stool, his back to Aaron and the bedroom door. Bare feet firmly planted either side of the instrument between his legs.

But that wasn’t the only thing that was bare.

In fact, the entirety of Spencer Reid was naked. Aaron found himself mesmerised by the movement of the muscles across his shoulders and back, writhing in complete synchronicity with the bow across the strings. Each shift of skin was a beautiful echoing ripple of the crisp, sharp notes Spencer was teasing from his cello.

It was several minutes more before Aaron surrendered to the impulse to move towards him. Reaching out, he laid the tips of his fingers on the top of Spencer’s spine. Spencer started, the bow slipping and missing a note but he quickly recovered. Aaron’s fingers glided down the ridges of his spine. A spine that had been wound so tight for so long, like the strings his bow now danced across, now released its tensions through the sounds spilling from its vibrating body.

Aaron dropped to his knees behind him. Closing his eyes, he leaned close enough to allow the movement of Spencer’s to brush across his nipples.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Aaron placed his chin lightly on Spencer’s shoulder. “I’ll be honest, I’m a bit torn on that score,” he whispered against his neck.

Spencer turned his head, and Aaron found his lips pressed against a slightly parted mouth, inviting him in. Aaron shuffled closer. “Though not to be outdone, I feel a challenge being made demanding I at least try and coax beautiful sounds from you, the way you’re doing to that cello.”

Spencer leaned back briefly into Aaron’s chest before pushing forward, placing the instrument back on its stand. He turned to position himself before Aaron then, still on his knees, them both half hard with the promise only seconds ago made.

“There’s a learning curve with any instrument. It might take some practice,” Spencer said soft, almost shy.

Aaron took hold of his wrist and pulled his young genius onto the carpet beneath him before kissing him with a controlled gentleness that Spencer could feel thrumming through his body. “I’ve always considered myself an excellent pupil,” Aaron replied with a soft smile.

 


	6. Coda II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At reader request, an add-on. :) I might have one more scene in me to finish playing out this encounter. Maybe.

“How long do we have for your lesson?”

Spencer was leaning up on his elbows, Aaron stretched alongside the length of his body, watching his superior’s heavy hand glide across his stomach. Hotch’s mood had sobered ever so slightly, and Spencer recognised the beginnings of that familiar frown that graced those dark and usually unreadable features when they were dealt a particularly challenging case - not that they all weren’t tough, but do the job long enough and the nuances of humanity capacity for evil slipped into the cracks of each team members’ personal abyss.

Aaron’s abyss was surely the deepest and darkest of them all. Though now, he was sharing the darkness with someone who had also walked its valley and found the sliver of light that saved him from its endlessness.

“I fear I might be getting attached,” Aaron mumbled, his hand continuing to move unfaltering along the barely healed scar left permanently on otherwise mostly flawless skin. Spencer reached down and took his chin gently between slender fingertips, forcing Aaron to look into his eyes. Hotch focussed on the feel of the tips against his skin, where light callouses of his playing hand caressed a shadowed jaw. “I’m fairly sure this is a bad idea.”

“This can be whatever we want it to be, Hotch,” Spencer said honestly.

Aaron’s sombre look didn’t falter. “You know the inherent risks….”

Spencer folded his body forward to lay gentle kisses against his shoulder. “We face risks every time we set foot in the field. But I know your concern extends to compromised behaviour.”

“Plus we won’t be able to keep it from the team. They are my team and…”

“… And therefore the best at what we do. I know,” said Spencer, moving along the top of the shoulder to satisfy a craving for the rougher skin along Aaron’s throat. Hotch felt his head slip back, his mood slip from dark to desire and Spencer’s hands slide down his back to help himself to one of those perfectly moulded curves of flesh.

“We could just… play it by ear,” Spencer said, giving a nimble and warm tongue free purchase to one of said ears, causing Aaron to mirror Spencer’s smile. “We could,” Aaron replied, tipping his body backwards to the floor. “We have a couple of hours before we need to be at Quantico,” he said finally, surrendering himself to the inevitable. He packed up the darkness and for once, gave himself the privilege of being the focus of someone else’s attention for a change.

“Just enough time for a demonstration of what these hands can _really_ do,” Spencer whispered, climbing across Aaron who realised he had somehow ended up underneath Spencer over the course of their exchange. Spencer met his impressed gaze when sat back on his thighs.

“Well,” he said with a shrug, fairly sure he knew what the man was thinking. “You did say we were the best.”

Aaron could only chuckle at that, before Spencer continued, “And I’m glad I have the opportunity to replace those memories of the Music Maker with some much more pleasant.” He took hold of Aaron’s wrists and pushed them up above his head. “Now. I think we take things slow as this is your first lesson…”

“I would counter that suggestion with my own observation on the fact that we had our first lesson last night,” Aaron replied, shifting his hips beneath the genius and reminding Spencer that slow, might not be a realistic option.

“That was simply a preliminary review to test your potential proficiency,” he said matter-of-factly. 

Aaron was grinning now.

“Now that I have your complete attention SSA Hotchner, your first lesson involves the theoretical…”

“Theory? Really?”

“… And some of its practical applications, if you’ll let me finish my sentence,” Spencer said with a roll of his eyes. “Seriously Hotch, I’m going to have to reassess my profile of you after this.”

“Lesson first, maestro, if you please,” he growled playfully with a gentle roll of his hips beneath him.

“I should warn you, I’m a fairly strict teacher.” Spencer’s hands had left Aaron’s wrists and glided down his outstretched arms.

“And as I said, I am an excellent pupil. And an overachiever. Just for the record,” he said, meeting Spencer’s eyes with a glint in his own.

“Shall we begin?” Spencer enquired, with all the innocent faux he could muster. The challenge had been made. And in much the same way Aaron Hotchner had taught him a great deal about himself and the application of his gifts to the needs of others during their time together in the FBI, brimming with confidence and burning with desire, Spencer was determined now to unleash the unsung chords of beauty that the man beneath him kept silent.

Spencer would be his bow, Aaron would be his body.

Together, they would resonate.

* * *

Hotch was enjoying himself immensely.

Spencer had succeeded in getting him incredibly aroused and just when he thought he couldn’t take much more, he’d climbed off him and extended his hand to pull him up from the floor.

“If you’re going to learn how to play, the correct position is crucial from the start. So you don’t fall into bad habits.”

Hotch allowed himself to be manoeuvred into a chair while Spencer retreated to the bedroom to retrieve items that would “reduce friction and ensure the smoothness of the movement,” as he put it so delicately while obviously trying to maintain a straight face.

No such luck for Hotch. He couldn’t recall sex ever being this much fun…

Reid returned seconds later, still gloriously naked, strolled up, turned his back to him and sat on his lap.

“Did you know,” he began, “the Cello is also known as the violoncello and I wasn’t lying when I said it requires a long learning curve to play well. Since you have to listen, notice how your body - every part of you - feels, and think about your immediate goal every time you play even just a few notes. Ability to focus is of course crucial.” 

Hotch simply watched over Spencer’s shoulder while throughout this verbal instruction, he proceeded to lubricate his hands before wrapping the delicious fingers of one of them exactly where Aaron craved them. With the other, he prepared himself. Leaning back into Hotch’s chest, it was easy for Aaron to feast on shoulders and neck, laying kisses and shallow breaths along their breadth.

“Have I mentioned how much I love it when you talk in iambic pentameter, Dr Reid?” Hotch whispered. “Also that I’m developing a new appreciation of freckles?”

Spencer sank down in one smooth move. There was no way this was going to be an extended lesson, thought Hotch to himself. “God, Spencer.”

He began a slow, smooth gyration of his hips against Hotchner. Lifting one hand and wrapping it around his neck, allowed Hotchner to feel the stretch of tendons, the pulse of blood through his carotenoid and the occasional swallow across his Adam’s Apple. The other hand he guided down his chest to wrap around his erection.

“Now,” breathed Spencer. “Let’s see how good your sense of rhythm is, Agent Hotchner.”


	7. Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologise that I seem to find further inspiration and am adding to the story? But I'm enjoying this OTP far too much. :)

**Later that same day, mid afternoon**

Reid was standing by his desk giving a preliminary scan to a file Garcia had popped on their desks before the team arrived for the day when Morgan strolled up behind him.

“Well hey there, Maestro!” he beamed giving him a gentle pat on the back. “There is absolutely no end to your talents, is there?”

Spencer shook his head and sighed. “We don’t have to know everything about each other, Morgan, and I would have preferred to keep this one to myself, but it’s out there now…”

JJ joined them. “I knew,” she said with a grin. “I’ve been trying to convince Spence to give Henry lessons when he’s old enough.”

“I hope we won’t have to wait that long to get an encore, pretty boy!” Morgan replied.

“I sure hope so too,” said Rossi who had materialised behind the gathering group with none other than their Unit Chief beside him. Reid turned and gave them both a tight lipped smile in greeting, fighting the blush breaking across his cheeks, which fortunately could be mistaken for embarrassment at the unaccustomed attention and nothing to do with the images from this morning that flipped quickly through his mind…

 

_“You do have rhythm…” Spencer’s whisper came from the back of his throat, his head strained back against Aaron’s shoulder, neck long though covered and gripped by a large, smooth palm._

_“It’s your pulse. Underneath my thumb,” Aaron whispered against his ear, “I can— can feel… everything…”_

 

“In fact,” continued Rossi, “I’d like to book a repeat performance for Thanksgiving. It’s only a couple of months away and it’d be nice to have you guys round again, you know, to give thanks. What diya say, kid?”

Spencer was rubbing the back of his neck, blush intensifying. “I don’t know, Rossi…”

“I’m an old man, Reid, surely you wouldn’t deny an old man what few remaining pleasures were left to him in this life…”

 

_“This was… an unexpected pleasure.”_

_“But not unwelcome I hope,” Spencer replied, turning his head to look at Hotchner behind him._

_Aaron kissed him._

 

Reid looked directly at Rossi then, astutely avoiding looking at Hotchner. And he knew, that he knew.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Reid said somewhat sheepishly.

Hotchner’s phone pinged just then. “The plane is being prepped but we still have an hour before we leave. Join me in my office, Reid?”

Reid looked momentarily confused as Hotch strolled past him. He caught the look. “For your follow-up evaluation?”

“Oh! Yeah. Sure. Of course, Hotch. Be right with you…”

 

**Thanksgiving Evening, Rossi’s Residence**

_([This is what Spencer is playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciT9p2fG8kk))_

 

Aaron sipped his drink, standing behind the rest of the group, once again, held captive by the play of Spencer’s bow across the strings.

They hadn’t revisited that first - and last - night, both men reaching a seemingly unspoken agreement, content to accept the encounter for what it was.

Professionals to the last.

Aaron didn’t have an eidetic memory, but the images from that night and morning lingered clearly and he frequently visited them.

 

_“Stop overthinking, Hotch. That’s my job.”_

_Aaron turned his head. Spencer was watching him. He reached out and placed his hand gently on Aaron’s chest. “What will be, will be…” he whispered. “The job always comes first.”_

_“How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”_

_“I would call it a hunch but seven years on your team has afforded me a lot of insights about people. And I watch you… a lot.”_

 

Spencer’s eyes were closed but there was the faintest hint of tears catching the soft light from the low lamps glowing around Rossi’s living room. He was more Spencer Reid in these moments than at any other time.

Raw, rare, radiant.

And once again, the silence filled the air as the last note vibrated from the strings. Leave it to Garcia to bring everyone down to earth.

“I want to hear more, I so so want you to never stop, Spence, but I’m not sure how many more times my heart can break!” she sobbed softly, blowing her nose while Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Gosh, Penelope, I’m sorry. I guess I could have chosen a more upbeat piece but…” he fumbled.

“Oh nonono, don’t you dare apologise, my musical muffin. It was beautiful,” she said dabbing her eyes. “Drink. Now. Morgan,” she demanded, shrugging her shoulders in an effort to pull herself together. He broke away, patting her shoulder. “Coming right up, sweetness.”

“Damn, kid. You are going to overthrow my reputation for team heartbreaker,” Morgan said pointedly at Reid, turning to head over to their host.

Reid smiled. “You know the odds of that happening, Morgan are so astronomical even I don’t have a realistic figure for them.”

“First time for everything!” said Rossi, walking up to him with a glass of fresh water. Reid stood, racked his cello on the stand beside him and took it gratefully.

Fortunately they were out of earshot when Rossi said under his breath, “You know, Spencer, you’re both grownups and if this mutually unrequited pining goes on much longer, the rest of the team will be quick to catch up.”

Reid coughed on a mouthful of water. Rossi clapped him on the back and just walked away sipping his Scotch with a smirk on his face. Reid was still recovering when Hotchner came over and commended him on his performance.

“That was very moving, Dr Reid,” he said quietly with that trademark small smile that gave nothing away aside from the admiration he held for each and every member of his team. “What did you say it was called? Memories?”

Spencer could only nod, trying to conceal the fact that his mouth had gone dry by sipping some water.

Hotchner slid a hand into his trouser pocket while sipping from his own tumbler. “Need a ride home later?”

Spencer didn’t hesitate. “Sure. That’d be great. Thanks Hotch.”


	8. Fine

Hotch shook his head. “I feel ridiculous, Spencer. I haven’t got a musical bone in my body.”

“Well, if you’re lucky you might have my musical bone in your body later.”

Spencer smiled at the laugh that drew from Hotch. It was a genuine sound, rare and all the more precious for that fact.

Spencer placed his hand over Hotch’s bow hand and guided it towards the strings. “What do you see when you look at me, Hotch?”

“What do I see? A colleague, a friend, a young genius being taken advantage of by a dirty old man…”

Now it was Spencer’s turn to laugh. “A bit deflective but I’ll let you off with that one.”

He took the other hand and placed it on the neck of the cello. “I’ll tell you what I see when I look at you,” he said, placing his chin over Hotch’s shoulder and his cheek against his. “A man who wants nothing but the best for every life he touches. Even the bad ones.”

He drew the bow back on the G, pressing the middle finger of the hand beneath his to the string on the forward stroke. “I play because it reminds me that there are some beautiful things in the world that remain unsullied by reality.”

Aaron was only momentarily distracted by Spencer’s closeness against his back. “That sounds like…”

“The theme from Jaws? That’s because it is. Two simple notes that convey so much anticipation, fear of the unknown.”

It was then both men’s mobiles phones pinged. “Speaking of the unknown,” Spencer mulled, Hotch standing to unsandwich himself from between cello and teacher.

He pulled Spencer into a brief but hot kiss. “Though the unknown is not so daunting these days,” he said softly breaking away.

“Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more…”


End file.
